


Jade Ring

by Amaradex



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Dreams, Fic Exchange, Kidnapping, M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-05
Updated: 2012-07-05
Packaged: 2017-11-09 05:15:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/451717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amaradex/pseuds/Amaradex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A jade rings brings Nick dreams of the past to lead him towards the future.</p>
<p>Fic for <a href="http://truthwritaslies.dreamwidth.org/">truthwritaslies</a> for the 2012 <a href="http://grimm-exchange.dreamwidth.org">Grimm Exchange</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Jade Ring

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve loosely based the dreams here on fairy-tales, but very loosely. I’ve also very loosely based the villains of each dream on the characters in the show that would, in theory, get in the way of a Nick/Monroe relationship. It’s predominately symbolic, of course, as is the fact that I’ve maintained some form of Nick’s name throughout the dreams. I have to admit – this is the first time I’ve tried to tackle reincarnation. I went with more of the Buddhist view of it than anything else, though I mostly just went in my own direction with it.

The first time Nick saw the ring, he couldn’t take his eyes off of it. He’d never really considered himself much of a guy for jewelry, but from the thick, ornately carved band to the flawless piece of dark green jade adorning the crown of the setting, it called to him. He’d only entered the shop intending to pawn the engagement ring he no longer had any use for, but when he left, he had pocketed the velvet covered box containing the ring, leaving behind a very thrilled proprietor. He stowed the box safely in the glove compartment of his truck before heading in to work, not wanting to answer any questions from Hank.  
  
That day passed with painful slowness. Without a case to demand his immediate attention, Nick’s thoughts kept drifting back to the ring hidden away securely in his car. He tried to focus on his paperwork, tried to dig up new leads on cases that were slowly going cold, but every time he managed to drag his attention back to what he should be doing, it inexorably turned back. Hank was thankfully in the throes of yet another burgeoning relationship and didn’t notice most of Nick’s odd behavior, though he did do a double take when the younger detective refused an offer of lunch in favor of staying at his desk.  
  
With his shift finally over, Nick returned to his truck with his heart beating frantically against his ribs, as though it were trying to reach out of his body and touch the ring. The Grimm knew that he ought to be concerned by his obsession with such a simple seeming piece of jewelry, but he couldn’t feel any malevolence from it. Instead, he felt like it was trying to show him something that he should already know but was too blind to see. Still, he resolved to leave the ring in its box and in his glove compartment until he got home, at least in part to make sure he did get home in one piece.  
  
With an exercise of will, Nick managed to withstand the siren call of the ring until he was safely ensconced in the kitchen of his new apartment. He couldn’t remember getting out of his truck or climbing the stairs, all seven flights of them, though the faint sweat between his shoulder blades told him that he had. Instead, all he could think of was the sheen of green light reflecting off the faceted face of the jade. With a resigned sigh, he gave in and opened the green velvet box.  
  
In the end, it was rather anti-climactic. True, the gemstone glittered rather prettily in the light and the ring somehow managed to look alright on his finger, but other than the easing of the longing to see the ring, nothing really happened. After about half an hour of waiting for something to happen, Nick gave in and went about the rest of his evening, cooking himself a rather lazy dinner of canned chili and lounging about watching mind-draining television until it was time for him to go to sleep. He placed the ring in its box on his bedside table, admiring it as he drifted off.  
  


*****

  
He was running through the woods, his heart pounding furiously. He kept checking over his shoulder, expecting the huntsman to be following after him, having changed his mind. He couldn’t understand why the King, his lover, had ordered his death and felt like he could no longer trust anyone or anything to stay the same as it had been the moment before. So, instead of trusting that the huntsman had truly set him free, he ran and waited for an arrow to pierce his chest and bring him down.  
  
It felt like hours before he finally felt safe enough to drop down into a walk, though he knew his sense of time and direction had been skewed. Still, his legs and lungs were burning and his throat was parched. When he stumbled upon a small stream, he fell to his knees beside it gratefully and began scooping water into his mouth with both hands.  
  
Once he had drunk his fill, he decided to follow the water downstream, reasoning that if the King’s castle was high on a mountain, water would likely not be running towards it. The stream bank was at least relatively easy to walk along, most of the thick trees starting far enough back that there was something of a path running just alongside the water. The water had refreshed him somewhat, but he could still feel the trembling of his muscles, exhausted from his long run, and he knew he would have to rest sooner rather than later. He couldn’t decide whether it would be better or worse for him to find some form of civilization – better because he could hopefully at least find food and a roof under which to lie, but worse because he was likely still in danger and any contact with other people might alert the King to his continued existence.  
  
He found a little house nestled in a curve in the stream bank after another hour. The isolation was reassuring, making him think that he might be safe here for a few days, at the least. He knocked on the door and was greeted by seven very short men, every one of them staring at him in awe. He didn’t even have to ask for help – in an instant, they were ushering him inside, seating him at their table and providing him with a plate of food. They hushed him every time he tried to speak, insisting that he finish his meal before he worried about anything.  
  
Finally, when he had eaten more than his fill, they allowed him to leave the table, leading him to a rather comfortable sitting area, where he lowered himself onto their small couch.  
  
“The King has been bewitched,” one told him almost immediately. “There is an evil Prince who would have your lover for his own, and he has turned the King against you with spells and lies. When the Prince discovers that you are still alive – and he will – he will come for you to kill you himself. We must catch him and force him to remove his spells before you can safely return home.”  
  
“How do you know all of this?” he asked, gob-smacked at their assuredness. They all exchanged humorless smiles.  
  
“We observe and we listen to the Earth. Not much goes on in this kingdom that we don’t know. Are we agreed upon trying to stop this Prince?” Having no other option, he shook the hand of the man that seemed to be the spokesperson for the group and then sat back to listen to them outline their plan.  
  


*****

  
Nick awoke feeling groggy, the last bits of his dream trickling away from his conscious mind as he desperately tried to remember it. There had been something about an apple, one side red and the other white. Seven short men too – he thought that they had been helping him. He stretched his mind trying to recall the rest but it was no use. Whatever the dream had been, it had been strange. He had the impression of warm hazel eyes tinged with red being part of it, though he couldn’t connect them in to the bits he could remember. After a few minutes, he dismissed it as irrelevant, heaving himself up out of bed and going to get ready for the day ahead.  
  
It wasn’t until he was half-way to the station that Nick realized that the longing he had previously felt to hold onto the strange jade ring was no longer affecting him. He hadn’t even paid attention to it as he left that morning, though he was relatively sure that it was still sitting on his bedside table, secure in its box. It was more than a bit suspicious that he had been so obsessed with it the day before but felt no interest in it now. He resolved to try to find out about it in his aunt’s books when he was free that evening.  
  
The day passed much more quickly than Nick had expected, occupied by a hit-and-run homicide that had been almost too easy to solve. Nick rather thought that the young man they arrested had presumed he’d get away with it despite the plethora of traffic and surveillance cameras surrounding the intersection in which he’d hit his girlfriend’s father. He’d be going away for a long time, undoubtedly, and would hopefully learn exactly how foolish he had been.  
  
It was still light outside when Nick arrived at his aunt’s trailer, though the shadows were starting to lengthen. He turned on the lamps inside the trailer, knowing that he would likely be there for a while, and then pulled out the first of the leather-wrapped books. He flipped through the pages quickly, appreciating the fact that the illustrations made it easy for him to determine whether there was pertinent information on each page. As the last remnants of the day slipped away into evening, Nick ploughed through three books. He finally had to sit back and rub his eyes, tired despite the amount of sleep he had been able to get the night before.  
  
A rumbling in his stomach told him that he’d been at it for long enough, so with one last look at the pile of books still to sort through, he headed home. He found himself thinking about the ring on the drive back to his apartment, considering whether he was over exaggerating his remembrance of its draw. When he entered into his apartment, however, he could feel the pull to admire it again, not as strong as it had been the night before but still there at the edge of his consciousness.  
  
He resisted for as long as he could, but once he had eaten a quickly-made frozen pizza, Nick found himself wandering into his bedroom without intending to do so. It was late enough that he reasoned that he could climb into bed and read for a short while before going to sleep. The book didn’t last long, abandoned in favour of the ring. He was careful not to touch it this time, wondering if it was like the three coins he still had hidden in the trailer. Admiring the ring as it sat in the box seemed to fulfil his desire for it anyway, so he watched the soft light of his bedside lamp bounce off the faceted surface until his eyes began to droop.  
  


*****

  
The seven men were staring at him expectantly, gesturing frantically towards the front door. Someone was knocking quite firmly, the sound echoing in his ears like rolling thunder. He went to open it, knowing that there was something he was supposed to be following through with. His thoughts were interrupted as an attractive young man swept in, raking over the small house with imperious green eyes. He tossed his red hair back over his shoulder and smiled a rather feral smile.  
  
“So, Nicolai, you were lucky enough to escape me the first time. I suppose that things do happen when you leave the dirty work to others.” Nick backed away slowly, leading the man further into the cottage. The plan that he and his friends had worked on was coming back to him now, prompting him to turn his back on the other man.  
  
“If you’re going to kill me, perhaps you’ll do me the favor of allowing me to finish what will be my last meal?” Nick tossed over his shoulder casually, keeping the smile out of his voice as well as off his face. The other man seemed surprised by his response, but nodded after a moment of consideration. Nick quickly withdrew to the kitchen, where a gourmet meal was waiting, prepared specially by himself. He served out seven portions to the seven men, each of whom took theirs with a nod before vacating the kitchen, leaving Nick and the strange Prince alone. Nick set his plate on the nearby table and then turned to the visitor, pasting an innocent, dopey look on his face.  
  
“It would be rude of me not to offer you nourishment, especially if you plan on exerting yourself later. Would you care to partake in some dinner?” The man looked suspicious, but as Nick had served himself and the seven men out of the same dishes, he seemed to believe that the food was safe to eat. He nodded and Nick filled a plate for him, serving out slightly smaller portions than he had given himself. They ate in silence, Nick blithely avoiding the other man’s gaze and acting as though he had no concern about the fact that he was, in theory, going to die shortly.  
  
When they were done their meal, Nick went back to the oven and pulled out a tray of eight baked apples, drizzled with honey and sprinkled with sugar. Seven were smaller and he put them on plates then handed them out to the seven men as they returned their dinner plates to the kitchen. The eighth was large and perfect, one side a flawless white and the other ruby red. He sliced it neatly in half along the dividing line, then went to sit down, placing the white half in front of the Prince and taking the red for himself.  
  
“Please forgive me,” he said politely, trying not to stare too closely at the other man. The green eyes were darting between the two plates, clearly trying to determine if there was a trick at play. “Had I known you were coming, I would have prepared a portion for you, but as it is, I only have my own to share.” Nick went casually to the cupboards, withdrawing a jar of raisins. When he returned, the plates had been switched, with the white apple half in front of his chair.  
  
“I hope you don’t mind, but I prefer red apples,” the Prince said, a façade of ruefulness on his face. Nick gave what he knew would be a forced-looking smile, responding “of course not” with a slight tremble on the last syllable. The Prince clearly wasn’t as clever as he thought, because he took the signs of fear at face value and bit deeply into a slice of the red half of the apple. He immediately began to choke, gasping for air for a moment before his throat closed up tightly. Nick stepped back from the table, neatly dodging one kicking leg as it flailed out in a last paroxysm before life fled the Prince’s body.  
  
The seven men gathered around the body, prodding it to check that the Prince was actually dead. When they confirmed it, they helped Nick saddle the Prince’s horse and pointed him on his way to the castle. He rode hard in order to reach it by sunset, sliding down off the horse’s back and tossing the reins to a waiting servant just as the sun hit the horizon. As he was racing up the stairs, the double doors at the top flew open and Nick found himself swept up in strong arms as hazel eyes tinted with red stared down at him joyously.  
  


*****

  
This time, Nick awoke gasping, remembering the entirety of the dream clearly. It was odd – he felt like he should know the story, but the exact details didn’t seem to align with what his brain told him should have happened. He rolled over restlessly and when he saw the time on the clock, he groaned. His alarm was set to go off in less than ten minutes and he hardly felt like he had slept. His eyelids felt like they weighed five pounds each and his mouth was cotton-ball dry.  
  
He knew that staying in bed for the few minutes he had remaining before he had to get up wouldn’t help him feel any more alert, so he dragged himself out from between the warm sheets with a groan. He turned his shower on to frigid cold at first and stood under the spray for nearly a minute before relenting and turning it up to his normal sauna-like heat. He resisted his desire to linger, washing himself quickly and efficiently, then wrapped himself in a towel and began to shave.  
  
He was even more absent-minded at work that day than he had been two days ago, leading Hank to give him several curious and concerned looks. He waved it off as exhaustion, saying that the neighbor’s dog had been barking and whining all night long. Hank bought the excuse, jokingly offering various ways to get the dog to be quiet, and the two of them shared a laugh before they got back to work. Still, despite his best intentions to stay late and finish up paperwork, Nick left at his usual time, dragging himself somewhat unwillingly back to his aunt’s trailer.  
  
He only got through two books that night before he started to fall asleep bent over the desk. When he found himself pillowing his head on a page about tiger-like man-eating Wesen, he slid a page into the book to mark his place and then shut off all the lights. He was careful to lock the trailer up securely before climbing into his car, but he still had a vague feeling like he was forgetting something. A run through his mental checklist didn’t tell him anything and so he dismissed the feeling as part of his exhaustion.  
  
He forced himself to cook a proper meal that evening, trying to cling to what had once been his normal life in the face of his odd dreams and inexplicable obsession with the jade ring. The task distracted him well enough, keeping him from thinking too much about his failure researching. He made a large batch of stir-fry, intending to freeze at least some of it for nights when he didn’t have the time to make anything but didn’t want take out or microwave meals.  
  
The velvet box was open, the light glinting off the ring when Nick went in to his bedroom. He looked at it warily, trying to remember if he had left the box open or closed it. He couldn’t remember so, after a minute, he shrugged and readied himself for bed. He felt no real urge to look at the ring for once, and so went to bed with hopes for a quiet sleep.  
  


*****

  
The warm, heavy body on top of his moved slowly, pressing him back into the straw-stuffed mattress as his shirt was pulled up and aside to bare his torso. Nick squirmed under the relentless kisses that were being pressed to the most ticklish parts of his ribs. Soft huffs of breath against his skin told him that the man on top of him was laughing at his squirming.  
  
“Torrin,” he breathed out softly, the name bringing up a sudden torrent of images. A tall, dark haired man with warm hazel eyes was holding out a hand, smiling. The same man running towards him and sweeping him up into a hug. His hands running over a broad, well-muscled chest with the eyes staring at him, tinged with red.  
  
“Nico,” the man responded breathily, pulling his head up and staring at Nick with raw need in his eyes. Nick gave in and lifted himself to kiss Torrin deeply before pulling back reluctantly.  
  
“My aunt will be home soon and you know you can’t be here,” he whispered sadly, reaching up to caress the other man’s soft hair. Torrin grumbled but levered himself off the mattress and started to climb down the ladder leading from the loft bed to the main room of the small cottage. Nick took a moment to right his clothing and then followed, trying not to stare too obviously as his lover straightened his own outfit.  
  
“I hate this,” Torrin said, reaching out to grasp Nick’s wrist and then giving it a sharp tug to draw the shorter man into his embrace. Nick submitted willingly, enjoying the feeling of being encompassed by his lover’s strong arms. “Why is she so dead set against us loving one another?” Nick laughed humorlessly, pulling back a few inches to look up into the other man’s eyes.  
  
“Where do you want me to start? It could be the fact that you’re not rich, the fact that you don’t come from a reputable family, the fact that you’re a man or the fact that you’re not entirely human. Any one of those would be enough for her. All of them together? I’m surprised she hasn’t tried to shoot you yet.” Just as the last words were leaving his mouth, Nick heard a key turn in the iron lock on the front door. He didn’t even have the time to pull away from Torrin before his aunt entered. At the sight of the tall man, her eyes hardened and she swiftly swung her shotgun off of her shoulder, pointing it with the ease of long use.  
  
“I warned you, werewolf,” she said threateningly. Torrin stood proudly tall, refusing to let Nick move to stand in front of him.  
  
“I’ve told you before, I’m not a werewolf,” he said with a sneer in his voice, ignoring his lover’s gestures not to antagonize the woman.  
  
“Close enough. Now get out of here. If I see you here again, I will shoot you, regardless of what my nephew feels about it.” Torrin gave her a mocking bow then reached out to take Nick’s hand and give it a squeeze, ignoring the noise Nick’s aunt made. Once he left, the woman drew Nick over to the sink, pumping up water and forcing him to wash his hands.  
  
“Enough of this,” she finally said, her voice little more than a growl. “If he won’t leave you alone, we’ll make sure he can’t get to you.” She cut off Nick’s protests with a sharp gesture and then sent him up to his loft to pack his clothing while she began to pack the most valuable of their possessions. They loaded up the horse cart, hitching the draught horses up to it before tying the saddle-bred mare that they used for riding to the back.  
  
“Aunt Mary,” Nick finally managed to get out as the woman’s spell wore off. She made a vague noise, clearly contented enough with their progress to let him speak. “Where are we going?” That earned him a grin, one that was sharp and had a hint of madness tucked into the corners.  
  
“Where that werewolf can’t get to you.” Nick found himself unable to protest her use of the term and so simply stared morosely at the cottage as it retreated into the distance until he could no longer see it at all.  
  


*****

  
Nick’s first thought on awakening the next morning was that at least it was a new dream. It was still too cohesive and coherent to be one of his usual dreams, but he would have been truly concerned if he had once again continued the same dream from the two previous nights. He felt a bit more refreshed than he had the day before, although he still got the rather odd feeling that he hadn’t been sleeping for as long as the clock said he had. There was also a bone-deep sense of longing that he couldn’t explain, though one quick test with the ring told him that it wasn’t directly related.  
  
He didn’t make it to his aunt’s trailer until much later than he’d intended that evening, having been running all over town trying to catch the Fuchsbau thief that had accidentally ended up a murderer. Nick had to admit, the poor Wesen hadn’t seemed like the hardened criminal type, being young and poor and undoubtedly lost in his life. Still, he had stabbed the homeowner at least three times, even if he had done it because the man had come home unexpectedly and surprised the thief. He was sitting in a holding cell now, waiting for a public defense lawyer to be found for him. With the ball now in the hands of the court, Nick and Hank had congratulated each other on another case handled and then headed home. Well, Hank had probably headed towards the bar and Nick had come to his aunt’s trailer, but the idea was the same regardless.  
  
He took one look at the pile of books still awaiting him and pulled out his cellphone, hitting the speed-dial for Monroe. He wouldn’t be able to get through the books on his own and while he knew that his friend did have a life, he always seemed pleased to come and help out, especially now that Nick was actually talking to him about their personal lives. As Nick had hoped, Monroe was home and actually somewhat bored and so jumped on the chance to spend more time in the trailer. Nick knew that he would need to spend at least a few minutes letting the Blutbad poke around all of the old devices and weapons that his aunt had collected, but it was worth it for the help and the company.  
  
Thinking about his friend brought back memories of his previous night’s dream, particularly the part where his dream aunt called his dream lover a werewolf. He himself had said that Torrin was not entirely human, though he could no longer remember why he had known that or what that meant. Still, he wondered offhandedly if his dream had translated Monroe, or at least some of his characteristics, into Torrin. A Blutbad could easily be considered a werewolf by unknowledgeable standards but would almost certainly protest the term.  
  
He dismissed his musings when Monroe arrived at the trailer, smiling in friendly welcome when his friend stepped inside.  
  
“So what are we looking for this time?” the Blutbad asked, his eyes travelling around the trailer’s contents even though he was still speaking to Nick. Nick didn’t bother to stop him, simply passing over the detailed sketch of the ring he had drawn without really thinking about it. It worried him that despite his lack of attention, the sketch was accurate as far as he could tell.  
  
“I found this ring in a pawn shop two days ago and I couldn’t stop myself from buying it, or from thinking about it for the rest of the day. I’m not as obsessed with it as I was when I first saw it but…” He hesitated, not wanting to admit his weakness but knowing that it was an important clue as to the nature of the ring. “I’ve been having weird dreams since I bought it. Very clear, almost like I’m actually living them. The first two were part of the same story, too, the second one was just set a while after the first.” Monroe whistled softly, drawing his attention down to the sketch and examining it closely.  
  
“I take it that you don’t normally have particularly clear, interrelated dreams?” the Blutbad asked, looking up sharply. Nick shook his head in the negative. “That’s crazy, man. Never heard of – or seen – anything like that. I take it that you want some help combing through all of these for something that looks or sounds something like this?” He gestured at the pile of books remaining and then waved the sketch in Nick’s direction. The Grimm nodded an affirmative and Monroe sighed, then took a seat on a wooden chest. Nick passed him the pile of books that he had sorted out as being written in German before resuming his seat at the desk.  
  
They read in relative silence until late in the night, stumbling across a couple of stories that sounded similar but nothing that was conclusive and certainly nothing that thoroughly explained the dreams. The closest thing Nick had been able to find was something called the “Bhava stone” – an unspecified gemstone that somehow united the “stream of consciousness”. Whichever past Grimm had written the account had terrible handwriting, nearly undecipherable, and the sheets of paper tucked in to the book on that page were in a language and alphabet neither Nick nor Monroe knew.  
  
They finally gave up when neither of them could keep their eyes open any longer. Nick made it home without dozing off at the wheel, but it was a close call. He’d eaten before heading to the trailer so he simply went straight to bed, not even bothering to shower. Sleep came quickly, sweeping over him almost the moment he settled his head down on the pillow.  
  


*****

  
His aunt had tied his hands behind his back and then to the cart the second time he tried to escape, telling him all the while that she was doing it for his own good, protecting him from the werewolf. He had screamed at her that Torrin wasn’t a werewolf until she silenced him. Now he sat on the front bench of the cart, staring mutinously out into the darkness, unable to sleep because of the uncomfortable position of his arms. Aunt Mary had laid down in the back of the cart, using both of their sleeping rolls to cushion herself.  
  
He had fallen into a half-doze when there was a sudden shaking sensation that awoke him. A moment passed and then there was another shake, clearly coming from the cart itself. Nick sat up as much as he could, looking around at the dark forest surrounding the small clearing they had stopped in. He couldn’t see anything, though the all-encompassing darkness made it impossible to determine whether that was because there was nothing there.  
  
As he was turned to his left, a warm body came up behind him and covered his mouth with one hand. He yelped, the sound muffled by the palm, but before he could begin to struggle, a familiar voice whispered “It’s me” in his ear. He relaxed almost instantly and the hand was removed a moment later.  
  
“Torrin,” he whispered back, feeling the other man begin to fumble with the ropes tying up his arms. He was untied much faster than he had expected and rubbed the circulation back into his wrists and hands as he turned to face his lover. The face he saw revealed by the thin light of the moon wasn’t the one he was used to, but he had seen it once before and could recognize it as Torrin.  
  
“What wolfish features you have, love,” he commented mildly, reaching out to draw the taller man into a hug. He felt the familiar leap of his heart when he was swept up into strong arms and buried his nose into Torrin’s neck, ignoring the tickling of his fur.  
  
“I don’t take well to people trying to steal my mate,” the man’s dry voice replied directly into his ear. “Even if I knew she wouldn’t get you so far away that I couldn’t follow.” Nick hiccoughed a little laugh, pulling back to look into Torrin’s eyes. Despite the increase of red in them, they were still recognizable, the one thing that meant that he’d never doubt that the creature in front of him was his lover.  
  
“How long were you following us for?” he asked, tilting his face up to receive a gentle kiss at the same time. That done, he followed Torrin down off the bench of the wagon and around to the back of it, where he found his aunt now lying on the ground, still curled up on the bedrolls. “Is she going to be fine?”  
  
“It’s just a simple sleeping powder that I mixed into that disgusting tea she likes. She’ll wake up in a few hours with nothing worse than a headache, as long as I make sure the predators leave her alone.” He gestured Nick up into the cart, following him up in a single easy bound. “Now, what of this do you want to take?” Nick looked around, cataloguing all of the things that he had grown up with. He took his pack of clothes without hesitation, as well as the small bundle that contained the few mementos he still had of his parents. A bit more consideration led him to pulling out two saddlebags of food for the road.  
  
“That’s it,” he said, turning to Monroe with a rueful look on his face. “Most of this is my aunt’s and I wouldn’t bother keeping it even if it were mine.” The other man looked at the rather small pile for a moment, then shrugged.  
  
“We’ll leave the cart with her, then. I’m sure one of the cart horses could carry the two of us and all of this, at least as far as we’re going.” Nick nodded, feeling better about escaping and leaving his aunt drugged with the knowledge that she’d still have all of her things and the horses she’d need to get her back to the cottage. Torrin quickly unharness one of the cart horses and pulled the saddle and bridle out of the cart. Nick tacked the horse up while his lover hoisted Aunt Mary back up into the cart and marked the outside of the clearing to discourage predators.  
  
“Ready love?” Torrin asked, coming up behind Nick and wrapping his arms around the smaller man. With one last look at the back of the horse cart, Nick nodded, stepping back while Torrin mounted the draught horse with ease and then taking the extended arm and allowing his lover to help him up. He wrapped his arms around the other man’s broad chest and held on tightly as they cantered down the path to freedom.  
  


*****

  
“I had the continuation of Tuesday night’s dream last night,” Nick commented when Monroe entered into the trailer the next evening.  
  
“Really?” the Blutbad asked, his tone more than a little curious. “Did it give you any clues about why you’re having these dreams?” He sat down on the same chest as the night before, supporting his chin with one hand as he watched Nick with avid interest.  
  
“I think you’re involved somehow,” Nick said, regretting his phrasing a moment later as Monroe sat upright, pulling himself away from Nick in the process. “Not like you’re causing it or anything but… there was a Blutbad. His name was Torrin and he was…” he blushed, “my lover. He saved me from my aunt when she was going to take me away to keep me from him.” Monroe’s posture relaxed slightly, though he didn’t lean forward again.  
  
“You’re sure your dream boyfriend was a Blutbad?” he asked. “Maybe it’s just that you need to let your wild side out? I don’t know, man, I was never good at that dream interpretation stuff.” Nick shook his head slightly.  
  
“I don’t think normal dreams are like this, so dream interpretation probably wouldn’t work anyway. I just wish I knew what they were or what they were trying to tell me.” Monroe frowned in sympathetic frustration, reaching out to absently pat Nick’s arm. The Grimm felt a flash of heat in the depths of his stomach, and ducked his head to hide his face, worried that he would blush.  
  
“You know…” Monroe said, his eyes unfocused as he thought deeply. “I think I might know someone who could help.” Nick looked back up, his eyes hopeful.  
  
“Who?”  
  
“I have a friend who is… well, essentially a scholar of Wesen. He’s a Klugeule – his entire life is about studying and he’s chosen to study our history and, because of that, the Grimms’ as well.” Monroe fidgeted with his fingers nervously. “I’m just not sure he would help us – his family was killed by a Grimm.” Nick winced at that, once again regretting the history of his forebearers.  
  
“I’ll ask him and see what I can do,” Monroe promised. Nick smiled and thanked him, taking the chance to touch him in response, testing the feeling he had obtained from Monroe’s touch. The same warmth filled him, but his stomach also felt like it had twisted itself into knots. Nick removed his hand feeling even more confused.  
  
His confusion left him skimming the same pages over and over as he and Monroe returned to their reading, hoping to find an answer before they had to ask Monroe’s Klugeule friend. Nick caught himself looking up frequently, staring at the Blutbad as he peered through his glasses at the fine print of the book he was reading. The sight caused the tightening in his stomach again, and this time he knew that it was attraction. He had felt similar before with Juliette, but never quite so strongly.  
  
As they left for the night, Monroe paused in the door of the trailer. Nick was following quite closely and nearly tripped over his taller friend as the Blutbad turned in place. The Grimm found himself a few inches away, face-to-face, the step down making Monroe nearly the same height. Nick nearly leaned forward to kiss Monroe, the action familiar after his dream of the night before. He caught himself just before he moved and took a cautious step back.  
  
“I will do my best to get Stephen to help,” Monroe promised. “I can see that this is really hard on you.” Nick smiled his thanks, still trying to control himself. They separated with waves to each other.  
  


*****

  
His fingers were already stiff, not even half-way through the night. He was trying frantically to make the impossible happen, but he couldn’t help but wonder what his father had been thinking. Spinning straw into gold was quite simply not something he could do, never mind his spinning skills. He was near to tears, but he forced himself to keep working, snatching up bits of straw and feeding it into the spindle. The thread pooled around the spindle in piles, all of it still straw, even it was made into thread.  
  
“You’re better than the last one, I’ll give you that.” The voice came from a rather striking man, leaning casually against the stone wall. He didn’t seem at all perturbed by the locked and barred iron door or the solid stone walls. Nick stared at him in awe, dropping the thread he had been forming. When his attention returned to his spinning, the thread had begun to unravel.  
  
Despite his best intentions, the backward slide finally broke his self-control and his face crumpled. He managed to hold back the sobs but the tears streamed down his cheeks unchecked. The man watched quietly for a moment before pushing himself off the wall and strolling predatorily over to Nick’s chair. He dragged a finger along the back of the younger man’s neck, causing shivers to go down his spine.  
  
“I can help you, you know,” he purred into Nick’s ear. Nick scrambled back, falling off the chair in his eagerness to escape.  
  
“H… how?” he stammered nervously, watching the man closely. The smile he got in response was overly predatory, increasing his fear.  
  
“I have powers you can’t even imagine. All I ask for in return is something you would never miss.” The dark red light shining from his hazel eyes told Nick that he ought to be cautious with making any kind of deal with him.  
  
“What?” His voice was stronger this time, and he sat up slightly. The man held out a hand, which Nick took, though he hesitated for a moment before doing so. He resumed his seat, watching as the man circled him once again to go lean up against the door.  
  
“Your name,” he said mildly. Nick eyed him suspiciously, wondering where the trick was. After having been sold to the Queen on a lie for his father’s advancement, he didn’t really trust anyone. The man’s expression was overtly innocent, but the red tint in his eyes promised that he was not trustworthy.  
  
“Only my name?” he clarified. The man nodded, holding up one hand as though swearing to the truth of it. Nick sighed deeply, looked at the pile of straw remaining and at his unraveled thread and then held out his hand. With a wide, sharp-toothed smile, the man took it, pressing it firmly in his own as a thread of heat shot through Nick.  
  


*****

  
Monroe called Nick at work the next day, informing him that he’d been able to convince Stephen to speak to them. He seemed to be of the opinion that the Klugeule was interested enough in his description of the ring that he had put aside his fear of inviting in a Grimm. It didn’t matter to Nick either way – he was quite simply pleased to have another chance at an answer. They still hadn’t found anything in his aunt’s books beyond the single mention of the “Bhava stone”.  
  
Monroe had arranged to pick Nick up at his apartment shortly after he finished work, so he only had just enough time to head home and pick up the ring before he was heading back down the stairs in order to meet up with Monroe. When the little yellow car pulled up, he hurried over and got in before Monroe could get out. He was feeling rather uncomfortable after the dream of the night before. The eyes kept sticking in his mind and he knew that they had been consistent throughout all of his dreams so far. He could also remember them glaring at him as he was slammed up against the wall of a house.  
  
The drive to Stephen’s house was awkwardly quiet, Nick staring resolutely out the window. He couldn’t meet Monroe’s eyes, knowing what he was beginning to interpret as the meaning of his dreams. He didn’t know why Monroe was as quiet as he was, considering his friend was normally so talkative.  
  
Stephen was a rather owl-like looking man, wide eyes hiding behind magnifying glasses and his head disappearing into his shoulders whenever he was frightened. He blinked rather nervously at Nick for the first fifteen minutes they were there, as Nick tried to explain what was going on in his dreams, but once Nick brought out the ring, he brightened up slightly, taking it and looking at it closely.  
  
“It is indeed the Bhava stone,” he said quietly, looking up at Nick with his unblinking eyes. The Grimm nodded encouragingly, feeling Monroe lean forward intently beside him. “I take it your books did not give you much information regarding this stone?” His voice sounded faintly longing, and Nick made a note to offer copies of some of the pages of his books in thanks if Stephen was truly able to help him. Having another source of information about Wesen would be useful, especially if his friendship with Monroe disintegrated because of the dreams.  
  
Nick shook his head in response to Stephen’s question and the Klugeule smiled softly.  
  
“It has also been known as the ‘reincarnation stone’, though it does not actually cause rebirth. Instead, it brings back memories from previous lives. The dreams are those memories. They are trying to lead you to your destiny, so once you have fulfilled it, they will stop.” Nick grimaced, but nodded his thanks.  
  
They spent a brief while longer with Stephen, casually discussing some of the things that Nick and Monroe had seen on the detective’s cases . The Klugeule was quite impressed with their handling of the Lowen games, though Monroe grumbled about Nick’s getting him into trouble. Despite this, he seemed to be sliding closer to the detective as the night went on.  
  
The silence on the car ride back was much more comfortable. Nick didn’t look over at Monroe, but he also didn’t deliberately look away. He was still trying to determine exactly what the dreams were telling him, though he was relatively sure that he knew. Why would a man with Monroe’s eyes have been in every dream as his lover if it wasn’t for the fact that they were meant to be together.  
  


*****

  
The Queen had been so pleased with the golden thread he had presented her with that she had demanded that he marry her. She was undoubtedly beautiful, with flowing red hair and soft blue eyes, but every time he looked at her he was reminded of a sharp smile, red-tinged hazel eyes, and a harsh voice purring “I’ll be back for you soon, Nicholas” in his ear. He was able to put off the wedding for a bit by asking that his family be present and finding his most far-flung relatives to invite. Still, the Queen was getting impatient as more and more of the invitees arrived. Finally, Nick had to give in, so he agreed on a date.  
  
The night before the wedding found him pacing the room he had been given, desperately trying to think of a way out of the situation – preferably one that wouldn’t end with him thrown in the dungeons. He exhausted himself with the frantic activity to no avail and finally collapsed on his bed, fully clothed and with no more answers than he had begun the night. His sleep was deep, but not such that he didn’t hear the seductive voice calling to him.  
  
“Come to me, Nicholas,” it whispered in his ear, wrapping around his brain and drawing him back to wakefulness. He sat up, gazing around the room with wide, frightened eyes. A shadow moved in the corner, resolving into the shape of the man from the tower as it moved towards Nick.  
  
“What do you want now?” he whispered, aware of the fact that his heart was beating quickly despite his lack of fear.  
  
“You, Nicholas,” the man purred, sliding in behind Nick and leaning against him to whisper directly into his ear. “I want you to come with me and be free.”  
  
“How can I trust that you won’t just get me into trouble?” he asked. He could still remember the danger he had felt in the man the first time he had met him. He might have made a devil’s deal with him, but he didn’t think for one moment that he could count on his salvation being a gift without a price attached.  
  
“If you can guess my name before the sun rises, I will give you anything your heart desires, including complete freedom,” the man promised.  
  
“And how am I supposed to do that?” Nick countered. “There isn’t enough time in the world for me to try every name I know, never mind the ones I don’t.”  
  
“Look deep within. If you deserve my help, it will be there.” With that advice, the man leaned back against the wall casually, watching Nick with his wary hazel eyes. For a long moment, Nick was still, searching within his heart and mind for an answer. When it came to him, he gave a lazy content grin that had the man standing and taking a few steps forward.  
  
“I know your name,” Nick told him, “and I know what I want.”  
  
“And what is that?” the man asked, his hazel eyes glinting with hope.  
  
“You…”  
  


*****

  
“…Monroe,” Nick finished as he woke up. The warmth in his chest burst into butterflies as he realized that what he had said was the answer. He was meant to be with Monroe, despite their differences and the fact that they should by rights be enemies.  
  
He took the time to stop by Monroe’s favorite bakery to pick up bagels, as well as stopping at a small store to buy some herbal tea that sounded to him like something the Blutbad would drink. By the time he arrived at the other man’s house, it was late enough that he would be just beginning to prepare his breakfast. Nick buried his fears and nervous energy deep within him before ringing the doorbell.  
  
“Hey Nick,” Monroe said, opening the door with a smile. “What’s the occasion?”  
  
“I brought breakfast,” the Grimm said, holding up the bag of bagels in explanation. “And tea. I know you don’t normally drink it for breakfast, but I thought you might like it for later.” Monroe’s smile turned downright beatific, and he stepped back to let his friend in.  
  
“Nah, I’ll boil a kettle and make us both some. You want plain cream cheese or herb and garlic on your bagel?” One look at Nick’s expression had him laughing. “Yeah, plain, I got it.” He took the bags from Nick and put a kettle on to boil before loading two bagels into the toaster.  
  
“So I think I might have figured out what the stone was trying to tell me,” Nick said once they were both sitting with a bagel and a cup of tea. Monroe looked up hopefully, his eyes so much the ones that Nick had been dreaming about that the Grimm was forced to intently examine the beautiful blue of his mug for a moment to keep his composure. Still, the nearly déjà vu sense of rightness of the moment gave him the strength to say what he knew needed to be said, so when Monroe asked “So what’s your destiny?” in a sardonic tone, he looked up and replied “You, Monroe.”  
  
He had expected surprise and a presumption that he was joking and so had schooled his face into an appropriately serious expression. What he hadn’t predicted was that after a moment of absorption, Monroe would reach across the table, take his face in both hands, and plant the softest, sweetest kiss he could imagine on his lips. He also hadn’t expected that they would end up kissing their way up the stairs and into Monroe’s bed.  
  
He wasn’t surprised to find the jade ring missing when he finally made it back to his apartment much later that evening. He gave up trying to find it after a half-hearted search and simply packed up a few sets of clothes and his toiletries as he had planned and headed back to Monroe’s house. After all – he reflected later that night as he lay curled in Monroe’s embrace – the Bhava stone didn’t owe him any favors. It had given him destiny and he couldn’t ask for anything more than that.


End file.
